the deepest reds
by ChocolateMilk2
Summary: When Sora's half-brother Roxas disappears in suspicious circumstances Sora is forced to undo the distance grown between them in his rescue. But as Sora is pulled deeper into gang warfare, how much will he give for Roxas's safe return?


"The police have just been through," Tifa tells him, skipping hello. There is a magazine spread out over the coffee table listing holiday places and a wall clock with a loud tick.

"No trail, I'm guessing?" Sora sets down his backpack besides the front counter, deeming it the least invasive space. Already the mood between them is awkward, tense; it has the weight that they're only speaking to each other out of necessity.

Tifa's face twists into a dull scowl. "They wouldn't take me seriously. Seemed to be of the opinion teenage kids nick off all the time; that it's only the childhood cases there's initial cause to worry about. Could you believe they had the nerve to ask if I was abusing him? Single parent slaving my ass off to keep him fed and watered and _that_'s all they can think to say for it."

"Ahh." Sora clears his throat conspicuously. "But they did file a missing persons report?"

The woman takes another sip of her cider, letting the quiet speak for itself. "They seemed to be familiar with his crowd- enemies of the local gang. I would never have thought Hayner would let that Almasy boy get through to _him_ like that..."

"Hayner wouldn't," Sora declares firmly. He thinks fondly of his own best friend, and how many mountains Riku would hurdle to protect him. "I already talked to Pence. He said that Roxas hadn't been going through one of his stages... Olette is very shaken up by the whole thing. Have you contacted the school yet?"

"Could you?" Tifa closes her eyes softly. "But if it wasn't Almasy's doing then it all but begs the question what could've caused him to leave."

The unspoken guilt is laden in her voice, and it occurs to Sora this is a woman whose entire life centers around the remains of her family. He feels the strange urge to apologize, for never calling or being around enough, but clamps down on it. This is also a woman who never sent him Christmas cards.

She's his stepmother. "I'll look into it," Sora promises, and wonders how much this redeems him.

The lack of response is enough to set his nerves on edge; Sora picks his bag back up and shows himself out without aplomb.

Roxas' Chevy is parked in the alley besides their Usual whatever, and the oddity of it briefly strikes Sora. Who runs off without taking their car? Not for the first time, a worry seizes him for his estranged half-brother. Does he know what he's doing? Who's watching out for him?

Sora finds his spare key on the ring – he still has this? – and jams it into the driver door. It gives, and Sora wrinkles his nose stepping inside. The whole thing smells like must, and Roxas's got a whole lot of gum wads jammed in the crevice beside the handbrake.

Sora reverses out onto Market Street and drives through around the Sandlot, heading for the Tram Common. It's been a long time since Sora's come around for the summer and he wonders if he can even still find the place. Roxas has a CD crammed in the disk player that came on automatically when the car started, some kind of modern ambient piano thing. Sora doesn't really know what it is, and it's a measure of how distant they've grown. Hadn't they resolved to keep in touch when Tifa and Cloud split?

Pence has warned Sora not to talk to Hayner right now and although he's sure the blonde would be of great use in locating Seifer's apartment, Sora resolves himself to a street map.

He's busy trying to spot the difference between Sundown Alley and Sunrise Street when the bulky form of a white hood catches his hello, is that Rai entering a back apartment? And Fuu as well.

Sora steps out, touching the car door closed and treading in step behind them. Echoes of vacant conversation drift down through to him as he steps up the steel stairs—they creak protesting.

"Setzer's just a mad bastard, I reckon," Raijin says darkly. "Using his fans like that… But he knows he can't take it too far. He has to."

"What's to stop him?" says a voice from inside.

Rai and Fuu greet Seifer, and they shut the door behind them as they step inside. Sora, not to be put off, takes one step closer. It squeals loudly with the slow press of his weight, and the door slams open.

"You want something?" Rai stands imposingly at the doorway, suspicion evident in his features.

"Yes, actually," not to be intimidated, Sora steps up. "I want to know what your goddamn gang did that could send a guy off the region border gone without a trace."

"Fuck off, the boss don't care-"

"Let him in." Rai shoots a hesitant glance back to Seifer, but complies to sudden the demand.

Seifer sits cross-legged on an armchair, his head a haze of smoke. Sora tries not to cough, raising his chin and staring at his opposition coolly.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a dead ringer for Roxas Lockheart?" Seifer asks in the quiet.

"He's my half-brother," Sora admits, glancing across to where Hayner, also standing occupies a throw rug. "He's also missing right now. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"I can't believe you," Hayner interrupts, hackles rising. "You don't talk to him for four years and then you show up all _concerned_ when he makes a short disappearance. Why don't you just drop the cover and admit you're here to play nice with Olette while her defences are down."

"For the last goddamn time we kissed _once_!" Sora hisses. "I was twelve, it was a party."

Seifer, to Sora's surprise, begins to laugh. "Well aren't we the evil little twin? Not hard to see why he's been keeping your existence under wraps. Sorry to disappoint, but I've got nothing on the pasty-haired fuck. I'm just sorry he didn't take this asshole scumbag overboard with him."

Hayner glares at Seifer, hackles raised.

Sora intercedes. "But you were enemies, right? Why is that?"

"He used to hang out with whiny and fatty back in grade school and they were always breaking in on our turf at the sandlot. I hated his friends, so he hated me on principle."

"That's a lie!" Hayner says, pointing a finger. "You always hated _us_ because Olette thought you were too rude to sit with us at lunch. And take that back!"

"Why should I? It's true."

Hayner lunges at Seifer, landing a soft blow on his Jaw before Rai seizes him around the waist and throws him outdoors. Fuu makes a series of rough gestures as Seifer pushes past, locking the door with a click.

"Let me in!" Hayner yells. "Let me at you you cowardly fuck. Why don't you take it and fight me like a man."

"Because I'm on fucking parole for fucking felony and if I get in one more gang fight they'll kick my ass straight to prison!"

"Oh, but I thought you liked to take it up the ass Almasy. From what I heard you were getting pretty intimate with that Irvine character the other weekend. You think that's why Rinoa left you?"

Seifer swears, making to unlock the door. Fuu puts a hand on his shoulder in protest but Seifer swats her away, leaping at Hayner. Sora glances back but moves after them.

"Leave it," Raijin instructs him, placing a rough hand over Sora's shoulder. "This is their fight, something they need to work out themselves. It's been a hard week on them both. Getting involved only raises the stakes, you know?"

Sora considers that, and thinks about what kind of friends Raijin and Fuujin must be to Seifer. He treats them fair enough, right?

"We're three stories up," Sora suddenly realizes.

An awful bang and shudder carries from the stairway's metal framework at that moment and the three of them burst outside, finding Hayner clinging to the supporting pole of a railing, Seifer's hand at side.

"Don't think you can get away with it," Hayner growls at him, fingers slipping with his weight. "I know you made him 'disappear'. And once I can prove it, you won't ever see the light of day again. So why don't you save yourself and confess?"

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands of me right now," Seifer declares, and his hand pulls at Hayner's, dangling him right over the edge. Hayner panics, clawing at Seifer's arm away from the drop. Seifer frowns.

"Now," he says. "Are you going to behave, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

There is quiet for the moment, and a light breeze brushes their jackets. Hayner speaks. "Yes," he says, unwaveringly. "I'll do whatever you want."

Sora, jaw gaping, looks across to Fuujin and Raijin who stand straight with their arms folded, faces impassive. "What the fuck?" he mouths at them, and when neither responds, moves forward to approach the blonde assailant.

He's fully prepared to give Seifer a piece of his mind when the blonde teenager hauls Hayner back over the railing edge. Hayner kneels on the spot for the moment, staring into his hands, which are red-lined with stress.

"Seifer, I hope you know what you're doing," Sora says lowly. "You just risked someone else's_ life_."

Hayner, visibly shaken, rises to his feet. "Just drop it, Sora," he mutters, grabbing hold of the boy's arm.

"He just tried to kill you," Sora replies in disbelief.

"Why don't you get out of here, ya know?" Raijin raises his voice to say. "You've caused the boss enough trouble for one morning."

Seifer doesn't comment, turning away from them both. Sora stares after him. "Come on," Hayner mutters, and pulls him down the staircase away.

Once they reach its bottom, Hayner lets go of Sora, shoving his hand deeply into his pant pockets. "I'm fine so don't ask."

He obviously isn't.

"Are you sure you should've said that about his love life?" Sora asks cautiously. "Seifer has a short fuse. I mean you know this has happened before."

"I said _don't_, alright!" Hayner yells with a grimace, and begins to walk faster than Sora can keep with. He cuts the right corner sharp with his hands shaking in their fists, shoulders drawn tight.

"Shit," Sora swears, putting a hand to his forehead. He glances back to the apartment block, where Fuujin watches from the landing. What the hell is he meant to do? "Hayner, please, okay? Wait."

Hayner has stopped short, and he stands on the road corner staring at the Chevy. "You stole his car," he comprehends in a flat voice. Sora raises his chin a notch.

"Are you _trying_ to ruin my life or something? Because I have to say you're doing a pretty good job. Tell me, why the hell would you even think to pull a stunt like this? What could you possibly hope to achieve?"

"I have no other means of transport. The trams are all down, and-"

"And you decide to drive what could be a dead man's car around? The hell is your problem? His friends are still in existence, you know."

Sora drops his eyes. "I miss him," he admits in a small voice.

"You didn't even know him!" Hayner snaps, and slams a foot into the front wheel. "Shit."

He turns on the spot, fingertips digging into his temples firmly.

"Okay, so you want to make amends with your long-lost brother. Fine, I can cop that. But have you actually done anything about it yet?" By his tone Hayner expects Sora hasn't.

"I've hitchhiked halfway across a country and stolen his car. That action enough for you?" Sora gets inside. Hayner pinches the bridge of his nose and, decisively, joins him.

"Only because I don't trust you not to wreck it," Hayner grumbles. Sora executes a flawless entry into the left lane. "I liked you better when you were young and stupid."

"So did I."

"Actually, I never really liked you all that much," Hayner admits. Sora peeks at him out of his rear view mirror, pulling into a set of lights.

"I'm so surprised."

Hayner glances at him side-long. "What happened to you? You don't even rise to my bait anymore. I swear you used to be all sunshine and lollipops every minute of the goddamn day. Now it's like you've taken a Roxas infusion."

Sora laughs at that. "Funny how growing up changes you." He breathes out. "I guess you're wondering why I never called."

The blonde hisses. "Damn right I'm wondering. What could Roxas have possibly done to deserve that sort of treatment?"

"Nothing," Sora says quickly. "He never did anything. It was all my parents… they didn't like us seeing each other. There was always the underlying resentment in it, the 'you chose them over me,' claim. I thought about calling a lot, and I picked up the receiver a dozen times. But whenever I went to dial I was gripped by this stupid insecurity, that there was nothing left to talk about anymore, and that when silence fell over the line Roxas would realize how futile the whole thing was. I've got to admit Tifa was a fair deterrent, too. But when no excuse to talk ever came up and time passed so much that calling would be admitting to the gap grown between us, it became harder for me to want to bridge it. I felt guilty and that grew into fury with Roxas, for not ever calling himself and putting me in that situation. I had no idea he might have had good reason for it."

Hayner grunts, accepting the answer if not going so far as to offer outright forgiveness. But then it's not like Sora expected that. Give the guy time, he chastens himself, you certainly took it.

But he can't help but feel as if Hayner should be returning in kind. There's always that added vulnerability in confiding in someone begrudged.

To Sora's surprise, Hayner does explain himself. "Roxas thought he'd done something the last time you saw each other, that it made you hate him. God knows why, I doubt you could stay mad at a fly given more than three second's notice. It feels like I'm surrounded by idiots sometimes— whenever anything goes wrong everyone always blames themselves. It's probably plain for you to see that I've never done that. When the reaper calls I want to be able to say I've paid my time without regrets. And some things you can't help but feel angry for, that seem like nothing other than a personal imposition against you. You felt like that for me, when I was fired from work trying to reassure Roxas."

Sora says nothing in his defense, turning the last corner in stride. He pulls up in the back alley and pulls up the car, but neither make any move to get out.

"Seifer's like that too, but I think it's warranted. We have a history, yes. I've said some shit things to him. But what you'll never hear them talk about is that Seifer used to bully my little brother Zell. Zell couldn't take the shit Seifer said about me lying down, and Seifer's precious pride wouldn't let him get away with Zell standing up to him. It was bad. Zell used to come home every day with bruises all down his sides, and my ma wouldn't care because she had clients to get to. Don't pity me when I say that because I don't need it. All you have to know is that Zell had to change schools because of the bashings, and he never made friends again as easily. Whenever I see Seifer all I can think of is my brother biting back tears, curled up in the driveway all by himself."

"Shit," Sora surmises.

"Definitely. So the next time someone tries to tell you that Seifer has principles, that he's just some softy looking out for people with his keep-away attitude, you think about that. Because I can't imagine a person any more likely to be involved in Roxas's disappearance."

Sora swallows. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to go up against him again. I've been thinking, I heard Raijin and Fuujin talking about some guy named Setzer, that he worried them. Maybe I could look into that for you, that is if you don't have any idea where Roxas might have left to? I was thinking of visiting Traverse if I couldn't find anything here."

"Setzer _Gabbiani_? Fuck, I never even thought of that possibility. If that asshole's gone after Roxas… man, let's hope he hasn't. Setzer and I are Blitzball rivals since way back, so it's probably better for me to look into it and not you. If anyone got wind that you were laying a kidnapping charge on him, you would be disappeared before you could say "rigged"."

Sora nods grimly. "Well, if there's nothing to do here it looks like I'll be taking another trip then."

"Ahh, yeah. I meant to say, you might want to rethink Traverse. I don't know, it's just kind of obvious by now, the place people don't go because it would be the first place anyone looks."

"It's the closest city from here," Sora points out. "Three days, unless he's taken a boat he wouldn't be at anywhere else yet."

"Go to the Bastion," Hayner recommends. "It's the next closest, and only a few miles from the water if you need to get home in a hurry. Not that I'd take the ferry there. Cost you a fortune."

"Looks like I'll be borrowing the Chevy again," Sora patts the steering wheel apologetically. "Sorry Roxas."

Hayner gets out, slamming the door a touch too forcefully. "I'll see you on the other side of this mess." He doesn't turn and wave.

"Bye," Sora mutters reproachfully.

He calls the school as promised before he leaves; he gets into a long argument with the principal about what to tell the yeargroup and wishes he used the landline. The town library has a photocopier which reprints the close up shots in A3 for nothing, but only in black and white.

He stops by at Olette's house out of courtesy, and she tries to talk him out of the missing posters. "It's going to be hard enough for the people close to him to cope as is," Olette says. "You don't need deliberate reminders everywhere. This whole thing might blow over in a few days anyway, and what if Roxas doesn't want to be found? Just let the police do their job."

Sora squirms. "I can't just do nothing," he protests. "What if something has happened, and we find out too late that we could've stopped it? I'd never be able to forgive myself."

Olette sighs. "Then at least do his memory justice. Go to his work and get some colour laminates printed. You know the ones with the sticky undersides? Tell them I sent you. And for chrissake, don't put them up outside Tifa's house. You're going to the Bastion - right? – yeah, try posting them there."

He agrees to it. "Thanks Olette, you're a big help. Hang in there, alright?"

"You too."

She's holding up pretty good for three days now, but, Sora thinks, she's always been pragmatic, even about the unreasonable things. It's a cover that's only going to get worse as time goes on. And it will.

Sora idly wonders if the knowledge that something is being done reassures her like it does him, even if nothing comes of it.

The newspaper people grumble and moan about the extra work load, but Sora's spared the duty of informing them of Roxas's disappearance. News travels fast in the Town and it turns out the press folks were one of the first to realize—when their least tardy worker took the weekend off without notice they had to figure something was up.

There's not much to do elsewise and Sora's already said all his goodbyes. He takes a stroll down the left lane while the posters are still being done and finds a noticeboard of the likes, complete with local business advertisements. Some primary-school age kids are chatting by the bus stop with ice creams and the odd car flashes past, sending gutter rubbish adrift.

Sora feels a sudden pang of dislike for himself, setting others' feelings aside so easily. How could he be so inconsiderate? Olette is in mourning.

He misses Roxas then, Roxas who always knew what to say in these moments. It's that feeling he never allows himself just because it feels so inappropriate to them. They have never been as close, for only being half-brothers. If they were directly related their parents might not have ever agreed for them to live as far from each other as they do. And Cloud isn't around to be their mediator; they've been raised completely separate people. There's always been that gap, because of that, even though they're the same age and gender.

It's late for the afternoon, about five or maybe seven and Sora questions whether if he should just save the day trip for tomorrow. The posters are probably done by now and Sora wanders back to the printhouse at a leisurely pace, eyeing the latest edition of _Blitzball Bonanza!_ an assistant holds.

"Take care, mate," the shopkeep says firmly as he hands Sora the extra prints. Sora thinks he's been connected as a relative of Roxas and nods back at the man, flipping through his new goods as he makes his way back to the car.

The Chevy, loathe to accommodate its new user, still smells of must despite Sora's windows-down airing. Deeming the new posters acceptable Sora throws the stack down the back with his bag, swallowing and righting himself for a solid six hours of night driving.

Roxas's haunting classical composition assails him as he makes his way out of the grinding backstreets of the Town and into the dark countryside. There, he flips his lights onto High Beam and straddles the street map in his lap as he cruises. Is it this exit or that one? There's not even an emergency lane to pull over in and his eyes droop in the blackening night as he stares into horizon after horizon.

The bright lights of the approaching city shock him awake and Sora bolts upright, relieved to catch sight of his best chance at a stop. _Stop, Revive, Survive,_ he scolds himself. That CD must've put him to sleep.

He really just wants to pull in at a hotel and call it a night but the Chevy's almost out of fuel and Sora's got another big drive ahead of him tomorrow. He considers, as he screws open the tank cap and shoves the nozzle inside, that Hayner was just trying to get him away in suggesting the Bastion. Then he decides he's overanalysing and grabs a mars bar from the shop counter on his way out.

Travese's _Trip Inn_ is delightfully ironic in its naming, though it does forgo the star ranking system Sora notices in driving up. He pays the pallboy, declines the cheap breakfast, and stumbles to his room clutching his stuff.

Oh, and he has a new text from Kairi.

_how r you settling in? we still haven't found the palm tree yet. miss u_

How delightfully intellectual, Sora thinks. He tries calling her back since he actually can cheap now, but the people next door start having loud sex and he hangs up before she can answer.

Note to self: buy new phone credit, Sora tells himself as he stares up at the bare-hung light bulb. The mattress is lumpy and the air has the faint whiff of hard cigars. He doesn't like it. Sora dreams of lions attacking him with dildos, and wakes up with the worry he might be into bestiality after all. God, heaven help him explain that one to Goofy.

He doesn't linger long. He's on the road before he's properly woken up and Sora's butt falls back asleep instantly. There are a lot more cars on the road in the morning; mainly big semi-trailers heading backways to Traverse, rolling on loud engines. Sora amuses himself by imagining the stowaways who could be trapped inside there. A collection of washed-out teenage band members that called themselves alternate as they fled from their cockney hometown… or the fallen-from-grace old mayor of Destiny looking for a fresh start. What was his name again? Hemmington? Flemmington? All Sora remembers is he was sacked for disorderly conduct with the female foreign affairs minister. Well, Destiny never signed _that_ fair trade agreement. Sora's hit by a sudden case of the giggles as he leads the Chevy round a long corner, directing it out to along the coastline.

But the silence drops back uncomfortably soon enough and Sora tunes through the local radio, picking up a lot of static and weird tag lines. The Groove Station, seriously?

He listens to the talk back channel because it's the only one that isn't dropping in and out like a fly every sixth minute and gets thoroughly bored to death with the story of Edgurt and his unfixable plumbing problem. Sora swears he's been talking about it for like a whole hour. It's obvious the radio commentator doesn't want to hear it but it must be that he doesn't get many callers because he lets the thing drag on with a resigned protesting.

What Sora wouldn't give to talk to a friendly face right now, he thinks wistfully, condemning the bland scenery. It's all foggy and eugh, you'd think mother nature would at least give him something to look at for driving out all this way.

Sora spots a hitchhiker, a young, stout guy with an earnest face, and slows to a stop curiously. "Car break down?" he asks, not seeing a backpack on the guy's back.

"Sorta," the hitchhiker says in a slow, vacant voice. "It's sorta a long story."

"Well hop in," Sora says. "You can tell me all about it."

Surprised but visibly relieved, the hithiker totters across to the passenger door and lets himself in. "I'm Pete," he introduces, extending a hand. He doesn't look like a serial killer.

"Sora," Sora says. "So where you headed, Pete?"

"Huh?" Pete catches his gaze for a moment. "Aww, Hollow Bastion. It's where my sister Maleficent lives for fun. She has a hodilay—holila—ho-"

"Holiday," Sora helps.

"—yeah, that sort house near the lake. But my neighbour Brent kicked me out on my ass when we was going. Wouldn't talk to me."

"Why not?" And Sora already half knows the answer. He's half inclined to reject the company of someone so brash, so slow, _retarded_, but Aerith's sad voice chimes in his head. "_Minorities have to stick together."_ He's not all poster boy either.

Except, with an amused glance at the backseat, Sora thinks he might have to be.

"Dunno. Brent always acts a good one."

"Well that's too bad. But you're in luck, my friend," Sora says with a grin. "I'm intended for the Bastion the same as you. We can go there together."

"Really?" Pete says in a hopeful voice.

"Really really."

It's a fun if slow ride towards the Bastion, and Pete breaks out a bag of crisps half way. They much steadily, listening to the chatter of the radio, admiring the made-terrible views. It's a lot easier to stay on course with someone else working the map, even if Pete's about as fast as a turtle on the uptake. Before long it's sunset and Sora parks the car in a field near the beaches, settling self-conciously into his seat. "You can go for a walk or a swim if you like," Sora yawns. "We're probably about three hours from the Bastion. I would drive but I think we need a rest first."

Pete nods slowly and exits the car, an odd gleam in his eye. Sora doesn't think to mention it until he's halfway off to dreamland and then he's startled from his reverie with a push, grass slamming into his torso as he lands on his front.

"What…?" Sora mumbles, gripping his head, and the sound of the car starting startles him. "Oh mother _fuck_!"

The Chevy is racing off onto the motorside, engine revving as it fades into the distance.

Pete just stole the car. Scratch that, Pete just stole his missing brother's first love of a vehicle. Sora takes back any god thing he ever thought about the guy. He just got screwed over by a fat cockney retard. A _really_ fat one.

"I was nice to you, you overgrown tub of lard!" Sora calls into the distance. "I goddamn took you off the streets and this is how you repay me? You're the saddest, lousiest asshole I've ever had the misfortune to meet. You know what? You can take that stolen car at shove it right up your excretive tract. Brent was probably _justified_!"

Sora doubts the other guy can hear him from this distance but the shouting makes him feel better, at least about getting screwed over by an absolute tard. Sora mulls over how moronic you have to be to actually get screwed over by someone that dumb.

_Stupid,_ _tusting, idiot,_ Sora thinks with each footfall. He's walking along the main road with his hands shoved in his pockets and considering the distance from there to the Bastion. There are certainly no other landmarks along the way. Three hours on road at about seventy kilometres an hour is what? Two hundred and ten kilometres to make by nightfall?

The next time I see you Pete, Sora thinks with resolve, I am going to absolutely pulverise you.

It isn't even his car to take, for crying out loud! He only took it because Roxas wasn't around to stop him. Roxas is going to kill him. _Hayner_ was going to kill him. What the hell was he going to say when he got back? 'Sorry, no new leads but I did manage to lose a several thousand dollar old one.' His wallet is in there, and his phone, and his license…

A passing four-wheel frive digs into a deep puddle (it is the beach) and the spray flies and coats Sora as he approaches it. Those damn sadists, reducing him to bloody clichés. Things like this are only supposed to happen in movies, Sora thinks angrily, peeling off his soaked jacket.

The next car to approach slows to a stop, but Sora has already veered away from the road in fear of a repeat incident.

"You look like you've been through the blender, dude," Sora is relieved to know he's not the only one who talks to complete strangers out their car windows.

"You better goddamn believe it," Sora replies, squeezing the water from his hair. The night is cold, and the ocean breeze certainly doesn't help; Sora shivers. "I guess I'm too wet for you to give me a ride?"

The driver, blonde and mulleted with blue eyes, appraises him. "Even I'm not that cruel," he decides, and opens the passenger door. "Come on, before some idiot with a Lexar comes speeding up from behind to rear-end me."

Sora enters, grimacing with the buckle of his seatbelt, feeling his wet clothes soak into the seat. It's not a nice car by any rates; a hatchback with dings all over the side door, but Sora gets the homey atmosphere at once. "Man," he breathes, feeling a smile crawl up his face despite itself. "It's just so bloody _stupid_. You won't believe it."

The other guy grins, revving it up and getting the car along. "Go on then."

"I got the car I was driving stolen by this farm boy hitchhiker I was giving a lift to. But it isn't my car, it's my missing half-brothers' and I was going to Hollow Bastion to put up posters for his disappearance."

"_What_?" the guy demands, turning down his blaring rock music to hear it.

Sora repeats the story, emphasizing his own origin from the islands and his dismissal of Traverse for the Bastion.

"So you've got no money, no ID, no car and no food and you want me to take you to the Bastion, which is a whole nother ocean away from home?" The corner of the guy's lip twitchs. "You're pretty ridiculous, kid."

"Also, I'm Sora," Sora says, remembering himself.

"Demyx."

"Good to meet you, though sorry about the circumstances. Nice name."

"Yours is pretty flash too," Demyx grins to the front window. "I guess we've both got a fair few tales, huh?"

"Guess so."

The trip from there is fairly comfortable, and Demyx kindly turns up the air-con heater for Sora's benefit. They spend the most of the time sitting there listening to the music, and Sora is somewhat surprised to note the man has a good voice on him. Demyx has the kind of lively, inventive personality that makes the night feel as bright and inviting as the day, sappy as that sounds.

No joke, they play 'I Spy'.

"I spy in my little eye something beginning with D."

"Inside or outside?" Demyx says instantly.

"Does it look like it could be something outside to you?"

"There's that," Demyx admits cheerily, turning a bend through the darkness. "D, huh? What about Demyx?"

"You've got to try harder than that."

"D, d, d… The dark?"

"Nope."

"Damn. A dingo?"

"I said it was inside the car."

"The charm on my front mirror is a dingo."

"Really? Cool." Sora reaches out a hand to examine it. It's kind of orange like a fox, but that might just be the artist's own interpretation. "All we ever get in Destiny are gulls."

Demyx has a thoughtful expression on his face. "The driver?" Sora shakes his head. "Well, you'll have to tell me. I give up."

"Already?" Sora laughs. "You're terrible."

"To be fair, I haven't played since I was about five." They exchange knowing grins. "What was it, anyway?"

"The dashboard. You've been staring straight at it for like five minutes."

Demyx curses to himself, trying and failing not to smile as Sora muffles his chuckles. It's a great ice breaker, and the crooning of the rock singer makes for a pleasant undertone. "So what's your business in the Bastion?" Sora asks, falling prey to curiosity. Demyx isn't dressed like a tourist or someone headed home to do the laundry.

"Work," Demyx says vaguely, knee bobbing against the seat. "Gotta return to home base for recess. Boss's orders."

Recess? "So you're what, an accountant?" He didn't think lawyers drove four-wheelers.

"No no, not recess like that. I've just got to go back to the Bastion for a meeting. Job allocation, that sort of stuff."

"Do you think you'll get promoted?"

"I sure hope not."

Sora throws Demyx an odd glance. "What, don't you like your work?"

Demyx shrugs. "Someone's got to do it. Just that mostly in my work, being promoted means someone else is getting the sack."

"So you think your colleagues will resent you for it?"

"I don't particularly mind what they feel for me either way. Just that it's usually a big sack, in the river."

Okay, now Sora's getting creeped out. Even if that was supposed to be a double entendre, it's a weird one, and he doesn't think he can stand another nice-guy snapping to betray him. "What is it that you do exactly for a living?" Sora says nervously.

Demyx throws back an easy grin. "Relax, I'm just joking. I work for an ice cream store, you might have heard of it? Xenmas's thirteen flavours, I'm a food tester."

Sora has to call bullshit on that one. What type of ice cream company sends out their staff in body bags? Sora notices that Demyx's knee has started bobbing again and with a snap decision drops the issue.

"But you don't look fat," he instead jokes, trying to diffuse the tension. Internally he's counting the minutes until he gets out of this potential death trap. _Don't let the mass murderer know you've let on,_ Sora cautions himself. _You can't have him panic and try kill you._

"Well thanks. I do try." Demyx grins again, his ice-blue eyes shot open, head nodding with the beat.

Sora doesn't think he'll ever think of Nirvana the same way again.

"So I was thinking of looking for work in the Bastion," Sora says loudly, ignoring the blood pounding in his ears. "You don't happen to know any places that are hiring, do you?"

To Sora's relief, Demyx doesn't recommend a satanic cult or some other sort of corrupt terror organization. "There's a new flower shop opening on Fifth street, near the marketplace. You could ask Linda if there are any jobs available."

"Yeah," says Sora, who suddenly has little intention of doing so. What if Demyx tracks him down and finds him working there… It was a stupid idea to ask him in the first place.

"Oh look, here's the exit now," Demyx says, taking it. "Next thing you know we'll be smack bam in the middle."

Sora swallows, as they brush through the outskirts and into the heart of the city. If Demyx was going to kill him, he wouldn't take him somewhere this populated, would he? He would've just run Sora over in the middle of nowhere.

But then maybe it's just a lure to get Roxas's name so he can go and off him for fun, too. Or maybe… the thought, shortly and heart-stoppingly arises. What if Demyx is the one who kidnapped Roxas? What if he's going after Sora in order to get rid of someone who might uncover the truth?

"I think I'll get out now," Sora says, heart thudding in his chest.

"Don't be silly," Demyx returns, catching his eye. "It's the middle of the night. Where are you going to sleep with no money?"

_At the police station,_ Sora thinks, pulling at the door handle. It won't open.

"Ahh. Sorry about that. Child locks. My little sister's always trying to get out onto the highway." Demyx winces as if in memory, then turns to him assuredly. "Really though, why don't you stay over my place the night? There's plenty of room and I won't make you clean or anything. The Bastions' streets are dangerous at night."

"If you have a little sister," Sora says slowly, turning and re-buckling his seatbelt. "Then why haven't you played I Spy since you were five?"

Demyx doesn't seem disturbed by the insinuation he's been lying to Sora. "Namine's not big on group games," he says, taking the newly turned green traffic light.

Sora turns back to himself, staring out the passenger window to the sparse street side. Lamplights, long and tall, and the solid steel buildings you never find on the islands. Suddenly he wants to go home. Screw Roxas, screw Hayner, screw the expectations of the people he left behind. How is he supposed to bring back someone else when he can't even direct for himself?

He doesn't have the photos to put up anymore. Pence only had single copies, his old Polaroid preferring quality over quantity.

"Looks like we're here," Demyx says brightly, pulling his keys out. "Welcome to my humble abode. One second, let me get that for you." He quickly turns off the child lock.

Free to run, Sora stares down the dark road. On the corner of a side alley, he sees an exchange of bills, the eye of one large, silohetted man catching his as he steps from the vehicle.

There's a reason they don't call it Radiant Garden. Demyx is looking at him expectantly.

Sora mans up, and follows him up the lift to the apartment. All the while, cheerful music plays, and Demyx tells him in a mutter he gets the melody stuck in his head during lunch hours _all the time_, shocking a laugh from his wary acquaintance.

"Seventh floor," Sora observes. "You must have struck it lucky."

"No, that would be my roommate."

His roommate, as it turns out is an unshaven, blonde, fourty year old man who's collapsed on the couch in sleep, the TV blabbing away discouragingly. Which is uhh, okay, a touch weird. The TV is the only sound in an otherwise still and unquestionably trashy living area.

"You can have his room," Demyx says, chucking his keys on the counter and flipping the TV off. "Don't worry, it's not dirty or anything. Luxord never sleeps in there, he says it reminds him of grade school. I don't know how he does it, honestly if I slept on a couch as much as him I swear I'd have to hire a permanent masseuse for all the cricks in my neck."

"Oh," says Sora.

"Aww look, Lucky's been watching _Poker After Dark_ again. I swear this show is more rigged than Chocobo Racing. Wow, weird for him to go and miss that. You know those people who would just like murder their boss for time to get home and watch their show? Yeah, that's what he's normally like about it. Not that Luxord would kill our boss. Or me. You'd have to be pretty suicidal to try that."

Demyx is staring at Sora pointedly, willing him to take the underlying message. Like Sora actually_ wants_ to kill anybody. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"Sure."

Sora sprints off down the hallway taking the first door - bedroom – and then the second. He slams the door behind him, and then with shaking fingers locks it. It's so good to get away from Demyx. Maybe that first admission could have been mistaken, the child lock an honest coincidence, but there's no getting around _you'd have to be pretty suicidal to try that._ As nice as Demyx might seem, Sora isn't going to swap ghost stories and happy memories with someone who outright threatens him when he hasn't done anything.

His eyes wander across the room, begging for some easy way out away from this creep and the awkward situation he's put him in.

But it's not like the movies where you can just jump out a window and skip away to freedom while their back is turned. There aren't any windows in the bathroom for one, it being a bathroom and all—windows would be a bit much Sora thinks, even for someone outgoing like Demyx.

And even if there were windows, Sora contemplates as he collapses onto the sink counter, how could he possibly escape out them? They were on the seventh floor, and jumping from that high Sora would never survive.

_It's okay,_ Sora tells himself. _Don't panic. _He splashes his face with some water from the tap, closing his eyes against the press of his hands. He'll go back out there one more time, and once Demyx is distracted he'll make a run for the elevator and head down to the ground floor. From there, he can find his way to his dad's old house where he can sit in for a while and choose his next action.

Feeling a touch better about the situation, Sora unlocks the door and heads back into the living room, hastily scanning it for Demyx's presence.

What he sees makes him freeze up. Demyx sits totally unabashed at the end of the couch, one hand stroking Luxord's hair. The other strokes the neck of his Sitar and soft, precious notes tumble into the air. His eyes are closed and he croons the opening lyrics of _Golden Slumbers_;

"Once there was a way to get back homeward,  
>Once there was a way to get back home."<p>

Sora knows he can go now. He can leave. But the sight of them together, vulnerable next to the muted television, strikes a chord of doubt in Sora's heart.

What if he's wrong about Demyx? What if he's abandoning a good person? Someone who would play I Spy with a complete stranger for no reason and invite them into their car and home for no reason other than to be kind?

Demyx's voice hitches— "Sleep pretty darling do not cry,  
>And I will sing a lullaby."<p>

He doesn't burst into the powerful melodic section of the cover song, but his fingers lapse into a convoluted rhythmic progression which sends notes soaring overhead, quiet but strong.

"You're beautiful," Sora breathes, shaken up.

Demyx smiles and opens his eyes, his head turning across to Sora compliantly. "Not as beautiful as him."

He says it like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and Sora looks to Luxord and he tries to see him as something other than a middle-aged man, collapsed in a stranger's apartment. Tries to see him as Demyx would, as a friend, a partner and person. Sora doesn't know how to say that he wasn't trying to compliment Demyx's appearance or the music, that for a split second they'd seemed like the same thing, one omniscient entity sprung out of nowhere, awoke to take him somewhere else.

Demyx seems to understand. "Sometimes he gets so lonely, you know? I worry about him. But these anxieties rise to the surface and I can't deal with it, I just have to let it out somehow or I'll go mad. Then I pick up my Sitar and it's like all my emotions are put into perspective."

"Clarity," Sora agrees.

There's a moment of quiet again, and Sora moves from where he stands stiffly to take a seat at an adjacent couch. Could a few more minutes hurt?

Demyx smiles. "I've always thought that'd make a nice name. Like Claire and Charity put together. Claire means clear, you know."

"I didn't actually, but thanks for telling me." They exchange another knowing smile between each other and Sora wonders if he can even still stay mad at Demyx if he is a hired assassin or hunter. There's an understanding between them, a sort of shared wavelength like empathy.

Sora feels a fresh wave of guilt roll over him. Whoever Demyx really is, he can't stay here. It isn't his place to impose, and what if something really did happen? Sora resolves to leave later in the night, when Demyx has gone to bed. Maybe he can even leave a thank you note, end things on good terms.

"You wouldn't have had dinner yet, have you? I can cook a mean risotto."

"No," says Sora, grateful for the distraction. "I'll clear the table."

He clears it, sets it and sits alongside it. Fifteen slow minutes pass where Demyx hums to himself, water bubbling loudly with the force of the stove. They eat neatly, and quietly. Sora has to snap his head straight to stop his eyelids from drifting closed. Declining Sora's offer, Demyx washes up.

Sora lays on the spare bed, listening intently as the stream of water shuts off, the gurgle of the sink as it drains the last dregs away. Demyx shuffles down the hall, yawns, and flicks out his room light after he closes the door. Guilt and fear wage a war inside Sora's head, and the brunette counts the seconds until the other would be asleep on the digital alarm clock placed on the bedside tabble. Along with a threadbare rug and plastic plant, it's the room's only true decoration.

Sora tiptoes out of his room and down the hall, thankful that floorboards aren't placed on the level of the apartment. His foot cracks loudly as he walks and Sora freezes in the passage between the lounge and the hallway. Luxord stirs on the couch, his head lifting up past the armrest and turning towards Sora.

To Sora's amazed relief, the man only grunts and shifts on his pillow before returning back to sleep. Sora shuffles past him, smirking at the light whistle borne between his teeth as a snore. Easier than taking candy from a baby.

He casually presses the call button for the elevator, starting a little as the clunky doors shudder open. He darts inside, slamming the ground floor button as the doors slowly rejoin.

The elevator jolts, lurching on its cords as it swings downwards. Sora clings to the handrail as it sways once, twice. He lets out a shuddering breath as it rocks gently in the air but neglects to move further down.

Shit, Sora can't help but think to himself once the elevator settles, I really am stuck here. At this cheap apartment with these creepy adults who want me dead or worse. What if he never gets out? What if this was all this was their plan to begin with? That is, if Demyx rigged the elevator so he'd know if Sora tried to leave?

He's going to have to see them again sooner or later, since the elevator has no help button and he's closest to their floor. What the hell will he even say to them? 'Sorry, but I was just sneaking out in the middle of the night because I think you're child-killing freaks'?

No, Sora decides, clamping down on his fear. He'll just have to get out of here before they realize anything.

He presses the buttons excessively hoping for renewed movement and when that doesn't work, he takes a seat on the ground.

Sora scans the walls and ceiling helplessly for a second exit. The square manhole at the top is far beyond his reach, even help of with the handrails. So much for pulling an Inception, Sora thinks. But maybe the elevator doors can be forced open?

He digs his fingernails in the crevice and pulls with all his strength. The doors don't budge, and he manages to break a nail in his efforts. Damnit, if only he still had his phone. That stupid Pete, it was really all his fault for stealing his shit in the first place. If it weren't for him, Sora would be cozied up in some nice hotel with a book and a warm hot chocolate right now.

_Yeah, you mean if it wasn't for you_, another voice inside him whispers. _If you hadn't picked Pete up he'd never have managed to betray you in the first place. Don't let them in and you'll never find yourself getting hurt. You know that._

Sora bites down on his tongue, trying his best to remain calm. At that moment the forgotten elevator music screeches back to life through the wall speaker beside his ear. "Goddamnit!" He slams a fist into the lift door.

What was the use in even trying? Luxord and Demyx have probably heard all the racket by now and will be waking up to find him. Pete has probably maxed out his credit card, and might already be in another state. And Roxas…

A mighty crash echoes through the confines of the elevator, along with the crunch of boots on heavy metal. The manhole slides across and the brunette looks up into Demyx's hard-lined face.

"You've been such a disappointment, Sora."


End file.
